


Icarus

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, High School AU, M/M, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith has to complete a stupid art project with weird, goofy, lovable Lance... what could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Songs that helped me write this:  
> [The Lumineer's "Ophelia"](www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTOC_q0NLTk)  
> [Of Monsters and Men's "Love Love Love"](https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=love+love+love)  
> [Lord Huron's "The Night We Met"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtlgYxa6BMU)  
> [Daughter's "Youth"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEpMj-tqixs)  
> [Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes' "Home"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHEOF_rcND8)

     It's cold when Keith wakes up. He isn't exactly sure where he is, but he knows it's cold. And his head hurts. A dull ache that makes him feel like he's simultaneously flying through the sky and passed out on the floor. Which, he realizes, he definitely is. He starts to open his eyes, and immediately closes them again when he sees harsh brightness. That definitely doesn't help his headache. He begins to remember the events that lead up to where he is now. He remembers trying to find a clean dish, any dish as long as it could hold a liquid. Something fell. Keith opens his eyes slowly, and finds himself laying on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken ceramic pieces. They had once been a bowl. He notices some shards have cut him; dried blood completely covers his forearm. It's late in the morning, judging from the clock on the stove and the sun streaming in through a window. Keith can't remember when he fell, but he knows it was definitely sometime the previous day. Shit, he should be at school by now. He slowly picks himself up off the floor, ignoring the pain in his head. His uncle must must had stayed out late again. Either that, or he came home too drunk to notice his nephew sprawled out on the kitchen floor. Keith hopes it's the first as he carefully steps over the broken pieces of the bowl, and sneaks down the hall to the bathroom. 

     His reflection looks just as awful as he feels. There's a downward gash just beside his eye, the blood still sticky. Dark rings surround Keith's eyes, and his lip is still busted up from when he got punched. He can't remember who did it or when it happened, just that it hurt. He's always been hotheaded and impulsive, it's not really surprising that he gets into fights so often. He's ghostly pale and so thin that blue veins are visible on almost every part of his body. His hair is so messy, it could easily provide a home for a family of rats. As he starts to pull off his shirt, he notices the purple bruise covering his side from when he fell. It makes it painful to move, as he lifts his arms experimentally. Keith goes to switch on the light, now better accustomed to brightness, but nothing happens. His uncle had forgotten to pay the electricity bill. Again. Keith sighs as he turns on the shower, cold water spraying from overhead. The water heater in the apartment had broken long before Keith had moved in with his uncle, so now all he knows are cold showers. He reaches around blindly as he washes his hair and scrubs the blood from his body. Although he can't see it, he knows the water flowing down the drain was colored red.

     He wants to stay home, but he's already missed so much school, a not-so-friendly police officer had paid him a visit, threatening to detain him for skipping. Keith had managed to talk his way out of it, claiming that his uncle was sick and needed his attention. She let him off with a warning. Relieved, Keith finally climbs out of the shower, and envelops himself in a towel. It hadn't been washed in a while and smells slightly, but it's warm and dry, and that's all that matters to Keith. He slides his clothes from the previous day back on. He desperately needs to go to the laundry-mat nearby, but hasn't been able to find the energy to do so. He grabs his backpack and leaves, without eating breakfast. He no longer has much of an appetite, and rarely eats multiple meals in a single day. He has to walk a little over a mile to get to his high school; it's a shitty one in the shitty part of a shitty city. Keith has to walk the whole way, as he's been banned from public transportation after starting a fight on a bus. 

     Keith sneaks into the school unnoticed by the teachers stalking the halls. He's so unmemorable, he's practically invisible. He slips into his first period class towards the end of the period, but his teacher isn't aware that he's late. His first class is a grade-level math class taught by a fat old man who only gave study guides and tests, expecting his students to teach themselves the material. Most of his classmates struggle in that class, though Keith learns quickly and easily retains the information. He could easily have an A in the class, only he never does the work. Keith falls asleep in his usual seat in the very back, and wakes up again when the bell rings, signalling the end of the period. Keith gets up and joins the sea of students migrating to their next class. Keith lets himself be jostled about until he reaches the right room. It's an art class he hadn't signed up for, but was put into anyway.

     Students are still slowly drifting into the classroom when he arrives. He sits in the back like always. He reads a notice on the board about a group project. Keith hates group projects. The rest of the team always gets annoyed with him for either doing no work, or for trying to do all of the work. There's no in between for him. The due date for the art project is in two weeks. He has to work with other people for two weeks. Keith already begins to dread it.

     The bell signalling the beginning of class rings, and the art teacher, Ms. Altea, a tall black woman with hair dyed white, gets up to shut the door. "As you've probably already read on the board, you're going to be doing an art project with a partner on abstract expressionism. It's due in two weeks, on the twenty-fourth. There won't be a rubric, because, well... you can't really get expressionism wrong. However, I'll be able to see the amount of effort you put into it, and will be grading on that. So don't think you can get away with no trying," she explains. Keith already knows the last part is true from experience. "Your partner will be selected randomly, so get out a note card and write your name on it for the sorting hat," she said, gesturing towards a wizard hat she keeps on her desk.

     Keith actually prefers randomly-selected partners. Everyone always pairs up with their friends, and what's left is a mix of outcasts, like Keith, and complete dorks. With random selections, Keith was more likely to get paired with someone who actually cared enough about the assignment. Keith rips a small piece from a sheet of paper and sprawls out his name in his messy handwriting. Ms. Altea walks around the room and collects the papers in her hat, then walks up to the front of the room. "You know the drill. I pull out your name, you come up and pull out name, and there's your partner." 

     She starts reading out names, and students start going to the front of the room to find their partner. Keith begins to daydream, leaving the boring classroom, until Ms. Altea called out, "Keith. Come up here." Everyone paying attention turns to look at him. He suddenly feels naked and on display, all of those eyes picking him apart. He's messy, he's dirty, he's a loner, he's edgy. They feel bad for the poor soul who's forced to work with him. Keith casts his eyes down to the ground as he walks to the front of the class, trying his best to not limp, despite the pain it causes in his hip. He hesitantly slides his hand into the hat. He feels all of the remaining papers part as his hand slides down to the very bottom. He feels as if his heart's in his throat. His hands are sweating, they're probably getting the the papers wet. His fingers finally grasp scrap, and he pulls it out and unfolds it. 

     "Lance," Keith reads aloud the curly-cue handwriting. He recognizes the name, but can't put a face to it.

     That is, until he notices everyone turn to a tall, lean boy sitting by the window with looks of pity. He nervously glances at the boy sitting beside him, who Keith assumes is his friend. Keith sighs. He feels a lump in his throat. He just wants to disappear. Ms. Altea gives him a slight push in the direction of Lance, and Keith feels his feet walking towards the other boy. All eyes are on him. The air around Keith feels heavy, like he's breathing in water. He's drowning. He stands in front of Lance's desk, looking down at his messy boots that are falling apart. "...Hi," he says. He feels awkward and, strangely, large. Like an elephant standing in their art class. He shrinks into himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. Maybe he can disappear completely.

     And then a warm smile changes everything. Keith is a little taken aback. "Hey," Lance replies. He gets an empty chair from the table behind him and sets it beside his own. Keith knows he's expected to sit there, so he does. He puts his hands in his lap and nervously rubs the sides of his fingers with his thumb. They stay silent until everyone has been given a partner. Ms. Altea then delves into a lesson on abstract expressionism, explaining how it's more than just splashes of paint. Though, no matter how much she tries to explain it, Keith still only sees splashes of paint on a canvass, with no meaning at all.

     "Discuss with your partner the kind of project you'd like to do for the rest of the period. You can look online for inspiration, if you'd like, but your project must be original," Ms. Altea finishes, then sits down at her desk.

     Lance turns to Keith. "Do you have any ideas?" Keith shakes his head. Lance smiles again. "Yeah, me neither." He pulls his phone out and starts to google "abstract expressionism art project," but gets bored and plays games instead. Keith sits beside him awkwardly, not really sure what to do. He can't nap, or Ms. Altea will get onto him for it. Luckily, he doesn't have to think about it for too long, as the bell rings, and everyone packs their stuff to go. Keith starts to walk out the door, but a hand quickly grabs his wrist. He instinctively yanks it back, but when he turns, it's just a surprised Lance. 

     Keith blushes slightly at his own overreaction. "Sorry," he says quickly.

     Lance shakes his head. "No, it's fine, I'm the one who should be sorry. Anyway, I was wondering what your phone number is, so we can make plans to work on the project." Keith nodded, and Lance handed him his phone to type it in to. 

     There's an awkward silence between them, then Lance speaks. "Well, are you busy tonight?" Lance questions. Keith shakes his head. "Okay, then can you come over, at, like, four?" He grabs Keith's wrist again, this time more gently, and quickly writes an address and directions on Keith's skin. "See you later," Lance says, then meets back with a friend at the door. Keith knows they're talking about him, probably calling him weird. Keith waits for them to walk out of the classroom, before exiting himself.

 

* * *

  

     Keith goes straight to the library after school. Using one of the computers, he researches abstract art and abstract expressionism, finding the same results Ms. Altea had shown in front of the class. He doesn't understand how he's expected to make something so simple while using actual effort. He leans his head on his hand as he stares at the computer screen. A few particular works catch his eye, but known give him inspiration to create his own work. By the time he checks the time, it's 3:45, and he scrambles out of the library. Autumn hasn't begun yet, so the walk is long and hot, and Keith is sweating an uncomfortable amount. He uses the directions scribbled on his arm to find his way to Lance's house, which takes a little longer than he expected, and he's standing on Lance's porch half past four. The house is a little town-home, identical to the ones beside it, made of red bricks that are beginning to gray.

     Before Keith can ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and there's Lance, flashing him a goofy smile. "Took you long enough," he jokes. "Jesus Christ, did you walk here?"

     "Yes," Keith replies in a rather bitch-y tone. 

     "Dude, I could've driven you. Whatever." Lance steps out of the way and allows Keith inside. The inside of the home is full of life: Picture frames covering almost every wall, two couches taking up most of the living room, a television playing some random cartoon, clutter on almost every available surface. It feels... homey to Keith. " _Mamá_ , Keith is here!" Lance calls down a hallway. Keith feels himself being watched, and when he turns around, he sees two small children standing at the top of the stairs. Keith gives them a small wave, and they disappear down a dark hall. 

     Lance starts to walk into the kitchen, and Keith follows him. The kitchen is as... "lived-in" as the living room. There's dirty dishes stacked in the sink, a mix of plates and sippy cups and silverware. The kitchen table is full of papers and backpacks, probably unfinished homework. Lance pushes a binder out of the way and opens the laptop sitting beneath them.

     "I didn't get the chance to research anything, yet, sorry," Lance says. He sits down at the table, and motions for Keith to sit beside him.

     "I looked at some stuff, but... I don't really understand abstract expressionism," Keith explains.

     "Really? I got it just like that," Lance snaps his fingers, "I think it's a really cool way to express how you feel."

     Keith thinks for a moment. "I don't know how to 'express how I feel with blobs of paint."

     "Okay, I'll help you out then." Lance digs around the mess on the table until he retrieves a sheet of paper that's blank on one side and a green colored pencil that's been sharpened so much, it's just a little stub. "Right now I feel calm, and, like... contempt." He puts the pencil down on the paper, and Keith watches as he beings to draw. It's just a few wavy lines inside of a circle. Every other squiggly stripe is colored in neatly and completely. He holds it up for Keith. "See? This is how I feel. Our project will be much more detailed and... better, y'know?"

     Keith stares at the drawing for a moment and shrugs. "I still don't get how that shows calmness."

     Lance sighs. "You'll learn to pick it up, I guess. Our project should, like, express who we are. How do you feel most of the time? Probably all depressed and emo. So part of it can be, like, black.  Ooh, and red. And depressed-looking. I'd say I'm kinda goofy. Maybe colors that clash, like, ones on the opposite sides of the color wheel, I think. Red and green... wait, those are Christmas colors... um, yellow and purple? Wait, no, blue and orange. Yeah. And your red with my orange will look good together..." Lance continues, but Keith stops listening. He nods along, pretending to understand. He barely understands the concept of a color wheel, let alone opposite colors. How can colors accurately describe a person? What makes Keith black and red? What makes Lance blue and orange? Keith's going to need a break from reality when he gets home... He begins to fantasize about his stash of pot in his dresser drawer, until he notices Lance looking at him expectantly.

     "Sorry, what?" Keith asks.

     "I asked what you think of my ideas. For the project," Lance repeats.

     "Yeah, sounds good..." Keith mumbles.

     "Were you even listening?" Lance questions, annoyed. Keith nods a little too fast. "Okay, then what medium did I suggest we use?"

     "Uh..." Keith wracks his brain for an answer, but Lance gets ticked. 

     "Dude, you gotta take this seriously. I'm not going to be doing all the work," Lance snaps.

     "I'm here, aren't I? I'm trying, okay?" Keith barks back, getting defensive. 

     "Whatever. We'll talk about it more later, I guess," Lance sighs, getting up from the table. "I'm getting a snack, you want one?"

    "No, I'm fine." Keith's appetite has almost completely diminished over the past few months, making him look gaunt and skinnier than he normally is. He can't remember the last meal he ate that wasn't gas station snacks. 

     Lance flashes a strange expression. "My mom's cooking dinner later, you should stay for that." He makes it seem like he doesn't care, but Keith can tell he's concerned. 

     "I can't, my uncle's going to expect me home soon," Keith lies. His uncle probably forgot that Keith even exists, but he can't let Lance know that.

     Lance rolls his eyes. "Can you come over again this week, then? Because I want to get started on this soon. Unlike you, I actually care about getting this project done."

     Keith sighs. He does feel a little bad for Lance; he deserves a partner that's as motivated as he is. "What are the mediums we can use?" he asks, trying to seem engaged.

     "Well, we could do it on, like, paper or canvass. Or make it 3D with clay, or something like that," Lance explains as he digs through the pantry until he finds what he wants. Those little cheese cracker sticks. Keith remembers eating those as a child, when he still had both of his parents.

     "It should be 2D..." Keith trails off. He wants to contribute more, but can't think of anything other than, "And really big."

     "Big, like, a poster board?" Lance asks and smiles.

     Keith looked down quickly to hide his blush. "Yeah, like that."

     "Okay. And the colors... I have markers, but-"

     "Paint," Keith cuts him off. He remembers seeing a lot of that when he was researching. 

     "That'll work. Can you get the supplies, or should I...?"  

     "You should." Keith tries to think of an excuse other than 'I can't afford it,' but can't think of anything, so he just stays silent. 

     Lance nods. "Okay. I'll get it sometime this week, and we can work on it then. You should get going though," he says.

     "Why?" Keith asks, suddenly defensive again. Was Lance kicking him out...?

     "Your uncle's expecting you?" It's phrased like a statement, but sounds like a question.

     "Oh. Right." He gets to his feet. "See you tomorrow, then." Lance walks him to the door and Keith can feel him watching as he walks down the driveway. He walks back to what the city likes to call Asheville, which is just the cheap, ghetto part of the city most people pretend doesn't even exist.

     His uncle isn't there when he gets home, and Keith lets out a relieved breath. He rolls a joint and smokes it then checks his phone to find he has a missed message from Shiro. Shiro was a senior when Keith was a freshman, and they became friends really easily. Shiro was always there for Keith when his uncle wasn't, until he had to leave for college. They still talk all the time.

     'How are things?' the message reads. 'I got a class project with a complete weirdo,' Keith replies. It takes no time for his phone to chime with Shiro's response. 'Maybe it's fate's way of giving you a new friend' Keith stared at the message for a few moments, unable to come up with a response good enough. He ate a dinner consisting of stale bread and almost expired butter, before he went to bed with a head full of thoughts of art, Lance, and Shiro's message.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs that helped inspire this chapter:  
> [NF's "Got You On My Mind"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvBmuyosTx0)  
> [London Grammar's "Night Call"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZYw0MQp_fI)  
> [GIRLI's "Hot Mess"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-2Mrws6zGc)  
> [Pup's "Sleep in the Heat"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aa3Afg3fzAQ)  
> [Syd Matters' "Obstacles"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqWcpEZ3GY0)

     Keith sits in his math class, bored as usual. For the first time ever, though, he's actually excited for his next class, art. He wasn't sure why exactly; maybe someone treating him like an actual person instead of being completely ignored was a bit refreshing, no matter how annoying Lance is. The teacher drones on about the quadratic formula, which Keith memorizes without difficulty. Finally, the bell rings, signalling they can leave, and Keith quickly makes his way to the art room.

     Keith scans the room, not registering that he's looking for Lance until he realizes he's not there. Keith takes a seat at his usual spot in the back and waits for class to start. Lance does finally enter, accompanied by his friends. He waves at Keith and smiles, though that's their only interaction.

     Because the project is expected to be done at home, class goes on like usual. Ms. Allura gave them, another lesson on abstract art, it's origin, and how it has increased over the years. Keith's focus fades in and out, and he only picks up on not even half of the lesson.

     At the end of class, Lance approaches Keith. "My mom 's taking me to get the stuff right after school. She can pick you up, too, if you want."

     "Sure," Keith replies. He has nothing planned that night, or any night for a while, probably.

     "Okay. Meet me at the car-line after school ends," Lance says. He turns and leaves without waiting for Keith's reply. 

     Keith smiles softly down at the ground as he goes to his next class. The rest of his day passes by without any incidents, and he joins Lance at the car-line. 

     "Hey." Lance flashes a bright smile.

     They wait in awkward silence until Ms. McClain shows up in an old, beat up mini van that desperately needs a wash. Most of the black paint has peeled, and parts of it are rusted. Keith follows Lance toward it, and, as they draw closer, Keith could see a woman in the front seat. He and Lance climb into the middle, beside a car seat that smells like pee. 

     "Ava!" Lance greets the woman in the front. He turns and whispers to Keith, "That's my older sister."

     "Hey, Lance," she says, with the same smile Lance wore. They have similar bone structure, Keith notices, though their complexions were different. "I need to pick up a few things, too, I hope I'm not bothering you guys."

     "No, it's fine. You're always working, it's been so long since I've seen you," Lance replies. He whispers to Keith again, "She's training to become a doctor."

     The car ride is full of small talk between Lance and Ava, which quickly turns to bickering until Ms. McClain yells at them. It's easy to tell she's the authority figure in the house, and her children obey her without question. Ms McClain parks in front of a Dollar Tree, and the four of them file out. Lance starts to run towards the store, and Keith has to awkwardly jog behind him. The store is considerably colder on the inside than the outside, making Keith pull his jacket tighter around himself. He watches Lance run through the store, and to the birthday party aisle.

     "Aren't we here for poster boards?" Keith asks as he follows Lance through the store like a dog. 

     Lance pokes his head out from behind a display shelf, wearing a ridiculously large pair of pink sunglasses. "My futures so bright-"

     Ms. McClain suddenly appears behind him and smacks the back of his head. " _Mijo!_ Quit goofing off and get your stuff!" she barks. Keith tries to suppress a laugh, which makes Ms. McClain turn to him. "Don't encourage him," she says, then heads in the direction of the frozen foods. 

     Lance groans and puts the glasses back. "She can be such a buzz kill sometimes."

     "I heard that!" his mother shouts from across the store.

     "Shit!" Lance hisses, ducking down. He sighs. "Let's go get the poster board," he says, resigned. Keith follows him to the school supply aisle and watches Lance pick a white poster board out of a pile of neon-colored ones. Lance promptly shoves it towards Keith, who reluctantly takes it. " _Now_ we can goof off," he remarks and takes off in the direction of the toy aisle.

     Keith follows him as fast as he can without damaging the poster board on the corners of display shelves. He reaches the aisle and looks around for Lance. "Lance...?"

    Lance suddenly emerges from around the corner, wearing a child's Halloween mask while doing a back bend, walking on his hands and feet awkwardly. "Boo!" He doesn't seem to notice the child standing on the other side of the shelf, who screams and runs away crying.

     The sight was too much; Keith erupted into a fit of giggles. The genuine kind of laughter that makes you smile big and your stomach hurt that you can't seem to stop. Lance watches the kid run away, concerned, while Keith laughs hysterically. 

     "Jeez, Keith, how is traumatizing a poor child funny?" Lance asks as he pulls himself to his feet and ditches the Halloween mask. 

     Keith's cackling eventually dies down enough for him to speak. "I haven't laughed like that in ages," he says, wiping away a tear. 

     "Really?" Lance flashes one of his infamous shit-eating grins. "That'll change now that you're forced to hang out with me." 

     Ms. McClain rounded up the three of them and took them to Wal-mart next, where Lance made jokes about feminine hygiene products while his mother scolds him. They get the paint, red, black, blue, and orange, like Lance encouraged, and start to leave. 

     "It's getting kind of late... if you give us your address we can give you a ride home," Ms. McClain offers. 

     "Thank you, but it's fine, I don't want you going out of your way for me," Keith says awkwardly. The last thing he wants is for Lance to know that he lives in the projects. It's embarrassing for him, which is why he preferred to keep it secret.

     "It wasn't a suggestion, Keith," Lance's mother says, tone edging on stern.

     Keith hesitates. "I live in Asheville. It's kind of far from where you live, so-"

     Ms. McClain cuts him off. "Hush, boy. I'm driving you home."

     Keith only nods, trying to make himself smaller in his seat. However, everyone else seems unphased by where he lives. Lance goes right back to his jokester self throughout the ride back. Ms McClain drops Keith off right outside his door, dismissing him with a simple, "See you soon, Keith."

     The home wreaks of alcohol, Keith notes, as he enters. His uncle is sitting in the living room, watching a sports game. "Why were you out so late?" he asks. He looks a lot like Keith's father did, which is a little unnerving for Keith.

     "Had to get stuff for a school project," Keith replies simply, throwing his bag down by the door. 

     "Sure you were," his uncle replies sarcastically.

     Keith wasn't exactly sure what he was insinuating, but it was probably something delinquent related, so Keith ignores him and makes his way to his room. He picks up his phone to find a new message from Shiro from earlier in the day. 'How's your project going?'

     Keith stares at it for a moment. 'Fine. We got the supplies today. It was kind of fun. How's college treating you?' Keith replies. 

     Shiro doesn't answer, and Keith assumes he's busy. He considers rolling another joint, but decides against it, instead taking a shower and then going straight to bed. 

* * *

     The next day of school isn't any more lively than the previous; Keith goes through the motions of his classes like a ghost, barely noticed. He gets called on while he's spacing out during math, which definitely wasn't an enjoyable experience. Everything changes once he gets to art. Lance approaches Keith at the beginning of class, wearing his usual grin.

     "Want to work on the project some more tonight?" Lance as ks. He's energetic, practically jumping up and down, as always. "Y'know, now that we got all the stuff?"

     "Sure," Keith replies. His response is flat, as always.

     Lance nods, then turns his attention to his friends who have just entered the room. "Hey, meet me out front after school ends, and we can walk together." Lance leaves without even waiting for a response. If he had, Keith most certainly would have opposed the idea, but it was too late, and Lance was already caught up in a rather animated conversation with his friends

     Ms. Allura joins the class, and starts a lecture about Wassily Kandinsky, who supposedly invented the concept of abstract art. Keith pays attention long enough to know a sufficient amount of information to at least pass the test on Friday.

     His next two classes pass by as boringly as his first. He tries to forget about his plan to walk home with Lance so he'll feel less guilty about just not going, but that's all he thinks about. In the end, he winds up meeting Lance at the front of the school. There was a large crowd of students exiting the school, but it wasn't hard to miss Lance's tall, lanky self. 

     "I almost thought you wouldn't make it," Lance greets him. 

     "Me, neither," Keith mumbles under his breath.

     He lets himself be lead down the streets of their town and to Lance's house. The walk is filled with awkward silences between Lance's even awkward-er small talk. Lance asks questions, and Keith only gives short, vague answers. Keith thought the walk would never end, until they neared Lance's neighborhood with the cookie-cutter homes and little dormers on the roofs. Outside of the McClain house, three children take turns throwing a ball at each other. It was different kids from the ones Keith had seen the last time he was over. They stop once they see Lance approach and one of them rushes to meet him. 

     " _T_ _ío!_ " one of them, a girl no older than five, shouts as she embraces him in a hug. The second two, a boy around the girl's age, if not older and a much older boy, hang back, eyeing Keith warily. 

     "Lily!" Lance shouts back, hugging the girl back. He turns to Keith. "This is my niece. She's my brother's kid. So's he," Lance says, pointing to the boy. "Hi, Mason. Hi, Liam," Lance waves at him. One of them turns around and runs back into the house. "Mason doesn't really like strangers," Lance explains as he heads towards the house. Lily follows at his heels, while the second boy stays outside, kicking the ball around by himself. Keith walks a safe distance behind the Lance and his niece. 

     Inside, a man, a woman, and Ms. McClain sit in the living room, Mason laying against the woman's shoulder. They were talking before the three of them entered. 

     "Hi, Keith," Ms. McClain greets him, completely ignoring her son.

     " _Mamá_ ," Lance whines. "I told you I was sorry." 

     She points to the kitchen. "Go work on your project, you stuff is on the table," she says in a stern voice. 

     Lance pushes Lily gently in the direction of the adults, and takes Keith's wrist before leading him into the kitchen.

     "What'd you do?" Keith whispers once he's a safe distance from Ms. McClain.

     "I broke her favorite vase doing something stupid," Lance groans.

     "He was playing ball in the house!" Ms. McClain shouts from across the house. Keith was beginning to realize how much he had underestimated her hearing. 

     Lance sighs "Let's just work on the project."

     As Ms. McClain had said, all of their supplies were sitting on the table. Keith takes a seat across from Lance and stares down at the paint. "How exactly do we start this?" he asks.

    Lance shrugs. He takes the bottle of black tempera paint and squirts it onto a palette, then rips open the package of paint brushes and pulls one out. He looks down at the poster board for a moment in thought, then paints one long stripe across the board, making it curl at the end. "That's you," he says. 

     Keith tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. "How is that me?"

     "It just is," Lance replies. He makes another identical stripe beside it, then takes out another paint brush and hands it to Keith. "You see what I'm getting at?"

     Keith shakes his head.

     "Okay... just.... try and draw me. Use the blue and the orange." Lance pushes those color paints and a second palette to Keith. 

     Keith squirts some blue paint onto the palette. He stares down at what Lance had done, noticing how the other boy watched him. Keith hesitantly paints a circle with a stripe going through it. 

     "Yes, like that. Exactly. Try using some orange, too," Lance says as he paints a pattern of wavy lines going between the two long, black ones. They take turns adding small details to it until about a fourth of the poster board was filled, during which Keith is entirely oblivious to the world outside of that table.

     "Okay, boys," Ms. McClain starts. "It's time to put that all away so we can eat." Keith hadn't even noticed her cooking dinner behind him. The painting was coming together good, from what he could see. When it came to abstract art, there aren't really such thing as mistakes or imperfections. It just looks like a mess. A good mess, though. Keith looks at the clock and realized it's already six-thirty.

     He quickly jumps to his feet. "I didn't realize it was so late, I should get going," Keith says and goes for the door.

     Ms. McClain stops him with an arm in front of his chest. "Nonsense. You can stay for dinner, it won't take long." 

     "Yes, but-" Keith starts.

     Ms. McClain cuts him off. "No 'buts'. It's decided. You're staying for dinner."

     Lance shoots him an apologetic look, but doesn't dare defy his mother as he picks up the paints. 

     "Take the poster board. It can all go upstairs to my room," Lance says as he goes towards the stairs. Keith follows his instructions, taking the poster board and following him upstairs to his room. 

     The room is small, much like Keith's, but that's where all similarities end. Lance's walls are covered in various anime posters, pictures, and drawings. It's a little cluttered, but tidy for the most part. His bed is made, clothes were put in their proper place, books shelves neatly. Keith's is just a dresser and a mattress on the floor with clothes, books, and trash strewn everywhere. 

     Keith doesn't realize he's standing and staring around the room until he glances at Lance and sees him giving Keith a funny look. Keith immediately looks down. "Sorry."

     "You're weird, Keith, you know that?" Lance asks him as he leaves the room.

     "Unfortunately," Keith mumbles as he followed Lance back down the stairs. By then, the table had been set and everyone sat around it. Keith sat down next to Lance, sandwiched between him and his mother. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually sat down at a table to eat, let alone with other people. Ms. McClain had made spaghetti and salads, which smell amazing to Keith. He makes himself a plate and is about to take a bite when the man, who Keith assumes is Lance's older brother, starts talking to him.

     "You're Keith, right?" he asks, to which Keith nods in response. "I'm Sam. How long have you known Lance?"

     "Not long, this is the only class we've had together..." Keith was beginning to regret getting caught up in the art project and not leaving earlier. 

     Sam nods. "It's art? How do you like that?"

     "It's okay..."

     Sam continues to interrogate him until the woman beside him, his wife, tells him to stop. Keith lets out a quiet breath of relief and they finish dinner. Keith comes up with another bullshit excuse about his uncle expecting him home, and turns to leave. Lance accompanies him to the door, leaning against it to talk to Keith.

     "Sorry about Sam. He's like this with all my friends," Lance says. Keith freezes for a moment. Lance thought of them as friends...?

     "It's fine... I should get going, my uncle won't stop texting me," Keith lies. Lance nods and lets him go.

     Keith walks straight home, then whips out his phone to text Shiro. 'The project is coming along well. My partner isn't as annoying as expected.'

     Shiro's response is almost immediate. 'So you got a new friend now?'

     'No?'

     Shiro doesn't respond, so Keith sighs and goes to bed without the aid of pot.

**Author's Note:**

> comments = motivation = longer/more chapters


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